


Second Chances

by howitshouldbe



Series: Together [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, fredsythe, parentdale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-07-03 00:49:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15807948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howitshouldbe/pseuds/howitshouldbe
Summary: Based on the season 2 deleted scene when FP asks Fred to be his sponsor and some canon scenes from season 2.Briefly covers FP asking Fred to be his sponsor, the night of his retirement party, and then aftermath of those events that we don’t see in the show.





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning is super angsty and not in my normal style, but I needed to have FP’s feelings out there. That deleted scene has so much emotion behind it that, even if it was left in, wouldn’t have been properly fleshed out. So stick with me on that. I promise it will be worth it by the end.

FP Jones had been a member of the Serpents, off and on, since he was a kid. They became his family when his blood relatives abandoned him. The Serpent life was a hard one. Full of drinking, crime, and dangerous deals. It was a life that, after the death of Jason Blossom, FP wanted out of.

Spending time in prison changes a man. FP Jones was no exception. He knew if he was going to keep his life on the straight and narrow, he was going to need help. When push came to shove, who was the one person that always came through for him?

It wasn’t easy for him to walk through the door of Andrews Construction and admit to Fred that he needed help. After everything the two of them had been through, the ups and downs, dissension and reconciliation, his decision to ask Fred to be his AA sponsor came from a place of humility.

When Fred asked him if he came for a job, FP was reassured that he’d made the right decision. He was there seeking support, a hand to catch him if he stumbled, and here he was being offered help before he had a chance to ask for it.

“No. I got a job. At Pop’s,” he told him. “I’m actually looking for a…”

How could he finish that sentence? There weren’t words for what he needed. Prison changes a man. Makes him see his priorities in a new light. What he needed, only Fred Andrews could give him.

He explained that he wanted a sponsor. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it was a place to start. Then Fred told him he needed one too. The man who was always so strong needed him too.

Second chances. They were going to get their second chances.

________

FP started his job at Pop’s and was doing well. Working long hours kept him focused. It was a struggle, but he was handling it. And knowing that Fred was there for him made it that much easier to push through.

Then came the night of his party. Betty and Jughead wanted to throw him a retirement party at the Whyte Wyrm. All of his fellow Serpents would be there. He was reluctant at first, but finally agreed.

Just hours before he was supposed to show up, his worst fear was confirmed. Jughead made a deal with Penny Peabody to help get him out of jail. The boy went against the one thing he’d asked of him. And now he was going to have to give up everything to protect him.

Walking into the bar, he looked woefully at the people surrounding him. Once again, he was taking the path that would lead to him missing out on the life he hoped for. Every time he felt like he had things under control, happiness slipped through his fingers. This was his inescapable reality, and he had to accept that.

He gave his speech, letting everyone know he’d changed his mind and would never leave the Serpents’ ranks. He hugged his son, telling him he was taking his place and fulfilling his debts to the Snake Charmer. Kissing his forehead, he also kissed away the pact he’d made with Fred. When a shot was placed in his hand, he took it, washing away his second chance.

The grief and the guilt were overpowering. He drank. With each shot he took, the pain got worse, not better. The night drug on until nearly everyone else had left and it was just him and Tall Boy sitting at the counter.

“I’m gonna go,” FP slurred.

“Want me to call you a cab?” Tall Boy asked.

“No. I’ll walk.”

Anyone else would have probably tried to stop him, but Tall Boy didn’t protest. 

FP walked out into the cool night air. Sauntering down the sidewalk, he made his way across the line that informally divided the Southside from the North. A few hours and an eventual cab ride later, he was standing on the Andrews’ front lawn.

“Hello?” Fred said into the phone, his voice gravelly from sleep.

“Fred… We need to talk.”

“FP? Is everything ok? What time is it?”

Looking over at his alarm clock, the bright red numbers read 3:00am and Fred sat up straighter in bed.

“I don’t know,” FP answered. “But can you come down? I need to talk to you.”

“Come down? Are you here?” Fred ripped back the covers and put on his robe before FP could reply.

“I messed up, Freddie. I really messed things up this time.”

“Hold on, F. I’m on my way down.”

Grimacing at every squeak in the floor, afraid it would wake Archie, Fred made his way down the stairs. As soon as he opened the door, the scent of alcohol flooded the entryway.

“FP…” he sighed.

“I’m so sorry… I let you down again.” A tear rolled down FP’s cheek.

“No! No you didn’t let me down. We’ll talk. We’ll talk about it. Just meet me in the garage. I don’t want to wake up Archie.”

While FP walked around to the garage, banging into every object possible on the way, Fred went to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water. When he stepped in the door, he found FP sitting on a folding chair, head in his hands.

“What happened? You were doing so good.”

“It keeps sucking me back in. I… I can’t escape it.”

Fred pulled up a chair in front of him, sitting so close that their shins were almost touching.

“You should have called me sooner. I can’t talk you down if you don’t call me,” he whispered, placing a hand on FP’s knee.

“I’m back in, Fred… I… I didn’t tell you…”

Fred could see the tears in FP’s eyes. This was so much more than a relapse.

“I thought you were retiring, F.”

“I was, but…” FP shook his head, looking up at the ceiling. The room started spinning so he closed his eyes, biting his lip and praying for it all to go away.

“Listen,” Fred said, squeezing FP’s knee to get his attention. “Whatever’s going on, you can talk to me about it.”

FP took a deep breath and brushed tears off his cheeks with the palms of his hands.

“Jug’s got himself in trouble. The only way to get him out is for me to stay.”

Fred sighed heavily. He and FP locked eyes and were silent for several moments while Fred processed what he’d just heard.

“I get it,” he said finally, dropping his gaze to the ground. “I’d do the same for Archie.”

“I’ve messed that kid’s life up so much, Fred… I had no choice.”

“I know,” Fred assured him. His hand was still on FP’s knee, but he didn’t look up from the floor. “I get it.”

“I just wanted…” FP hesitated. His chest was heaving as he fought for breath. “I just wanted to do things right this time." 

"Our second chances,” Fred breathed with a nod.

“And I blew it again.” 

"No! No, you didn’t blow it! We’ll figure it out!” Fred’s hand instinctively reached out and cupped the side of FP’s neck. Like he does with Archie when he’s upset. Like he used to do with FP.

“You can’t follow me where I have to go,” FP said, his face stern and eyes focused.

“I’m not losing my… sponsor… Not this time.”

FP stood, almost knocking his chair over to get past Fred. “This is something I have to handle on my own. Jughead’s already in over his head, I’m not letting you get involved too.”

Stumbling toward the door, he was tempted to just walk out. Why did he come here in the first place?

“Well I’m not letting  _you_ go down this path again,” Fred said, his voice rising. “Besides, I… I need you to…”

FP turned quickly. “Need me to what, Fred? Need me to help  _you_? How am I supposed to help you when I can’t even help myself?”

Fred shook his head, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees. He ran his hands over his face and sighed.

“You’ve gotta do what’s best for your kid, FP. But you can’t do that if you’re drunk off your ass.”

“Well  _you_  can’t protect Archie if you’re high on pills,” FP shot back matter-of-factly.

Fred was about to retaliate, but stopped himself. The half-empty bottle of pain meds in his robe pocket suddenly felt more like a ton of bricks. Not unlike the knot in his chest.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “You’re absolutely right.”

“So what are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” Fred breathed, rising and making his way to stand in front of FP. He stopped just inches from him. “But I’m not going to make it without you.”

The room began to spin again. All the grief, all the pain, all the fear and belief that he had once again lost the chance to do things right, all of it was gone. Left in its place was the look in Fred’s eyes. As FP leaned down, feeling Fred’s hands on his arms, his lips gently brushing his own, he finally had it in his grasp. His second chance.


End file.
